The Hardest Thing of All
by ewarrior11
Summary: Velanna is a troubled woman.  Her life is a never-ending parade of catastrophe, loss, heartache, and guilt.  During the dark times of the darkspawn assault on Amaranthine, Velanna finds hope for her future.  OCxVelanna.  Adventure/Romance/Redemption
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note:_

_When I first played Awakenings, Velanna annoyed me. I think a lot of people had that reaction. She comes off as racist and profoundly arrogant. As I played Awakenings, however, and I got know her circumstances, I just found I couldn't detest her anymore. Her situation is extraordinarily tragic. I wanted to explore that situation, and give her a way out of the nightmare that her life had become._

**Chapter 1**

"I think that's one of the Wardens' new recruits," Farron said. "She looks angry."

Davyd MacDougal, head cook at Vigil's Keep, nodded to his elven assistant. "Might be another hard case. The Wardens will recruit anyone, regardless of their past, that can help the cause."

"I heard she's a Dalish mage," Farron said. "Better not burn the roast."

Davyd rolled his eyes. "I doubt she's going to hurl fireballs at me for that."

It was dinner time at Vigil's Keep, and the dining hall was busy. Given the size of the force that was housed at the keep in addition to the Warden contingent, Davyd had a lot of mouths to feed. Davyd took cooking seriously. He had served four years as a soldier under Arl Rendon Howe before the blight. Military life hadn't suited him that well, but he had come to appreciate and respect the soldiers who did it their entire lives. He knew very well how important morale was to a fighting force, and a critical component of that was a good, hot meal on a regular basis.

Davyd looked at the buffet and sniffed with derision. He hated buffets. He preferred for the staff to wait on the soldiers in the dining hall, delivering their meals and refilling tankards as would be done in a proper tavern. There were simply too many people to feed these days at the Vigil, however, and he had had no choice but to set up a buffet line and have the soldiers serve themselves.

They didn't seem to mind it much. It was generally the norm for your average military dining hall in Ferelden anyway, but Davyd didn't like being 'average'.

A young, blazing redhead entered the dining hall and approached Davyd. "Smells excellent, as always," she said.

"My Lady," Davyd said formally.

Lady Elissa Cousland, Hero of Ferelden, Commander of the Grey, Arlessa of Amaranthine and, by the Maker's grace, Queen of Ferelden, waved shortly. "Enough of the 'My Lady' crap. It's just Elissa."

"As you say," Davyd replied. "I see we have a new face."

Elissa glanced back towards the newcomer, and narrowed her eyes. "Yes. That one's likely to be trouble. I recruited her two days ago in the Wending Wood. I'm still not sure I made the right choice." Davyd was pretty sure Lady Cousland would've never made such an admission of doubt in any decision in front of her men, and it honored him that she trusted him that much. _I guess we all need someone to vent to at times, even the invincible Hero of Ferelden,_ he mused.

"I take it she's a hard case?" Davyd asked.

"You have no idea," Elissa said.

"Maybe she just needs some time," Davyd said. "You know, to get settled in and give people time to get to know her, let her know she's welcome."

Elissa grimaced. "I don't see that happening." Elissa sighed heavily. "Look, I trust you Davyd, but promise me you'll behave if I tell you the details."

"Of course," Davyd said, looking concerned.

Elissa nodded. "We found her butchering caravans. She's lost her sister, apparently kidnapped by darkspawn, which is damned odd in and of itself. She was convinced the humans did it and set out to take revenge."

Davyd's expression went blank. It was the best he could manage. It didn't escape Elissa.

"I know about what happened to your first wife, Davyd. It was tragic and wrong that Dalish hunters murdered her. I know wounds like that don't heal easily. I guess sometimes they never do. But Velanna isn't responsible for what happened to your wife. I don't want you getting any ideas like poisoning her dinner," Elissa said.

"Don't worry," Davyd grated. "If I wanted to do something to her, I'd do it with a blade, not poison." He waved shortly at Elissa's alarmed expression. "I'm fine, there will be no problem. I do have to ask, however, what inspired you to let her live in the first place?"

"We need Wardens and she's got the skill for it," Elissa shrugged. "That, and the situation is a bit more complex than it sounds on the surface. The darkspawn planted evidence to make it look like humans had taken her sister. Her conclusion that humans had taken her sister, while incorrect, wasn't based entirely on racism. I'm willing to see how things play out for now."

Davyd released a pent up breath. "I'm sorry for getting angry. I'd thought that I'd let all that go, but I guess those wounds can still bleed even after all these years. There will be no problems, I promise you."

"Good," Elissa smiled. "You truly have no idea how important you are to making this Maker-damned operation run." Elissa stifled a yawn. "I think I'm going to turn in for the evening. The paperwork can wait until tomorrow."

"But you haven't even had dinner yet," Davyd chided.

"You're such a damned mother hen," she teased. "I'm sure my mother is quite happy, looking down from the Maker's side, to see that He's appointed someone to properly scold me in her absence."

"Armies run on their stomachs, ma'am," Davyd said. "I've been in an army before, I would know."

"Stop making sense," she laughed. "I'll be fine, Davyd. I haven't been sleeping much the past week, and I'm about to hit rock bottom. I've got to rest, or I'm going to get myself or someone else killed next time we clash with the darkspawn."

"As you say, My Lady. I'll make sure the garrison is well fed this evening," Davyd said.

As Lady Cousland left the dining hall, he glanced towards Velanna, the new recruit. She was eating alone. That hard, angry look still dominated her countenance, but he thought he could see a bit of the pain and fear in her eyes.

Normally, he'd just keep his distance from someone like that and just not worry about it. Somehow, he anticipated that's not how this was going to play out. He didn't know if his anticipation was born of dread, curiosity, or anger.

_This ought to be interesting,_ he thought to himself. _Of course, darkspawn beheading people and eating them is interesting too when you think about it, so maybe that's not such a good thing,_ he fretted.

"Farron," Davyd said. "I think things are about to get a lot more exciting around here."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Davyd had tossed and turned for hours trying to get to sleep. He should've known better than to think he was going to be sleeping at all that evening.

_Eight__ years,_ he thought. _Eight __years __since __my __first __wife, __Sara, __was __taken __from __me. __I'm __so __sorry, __Sara. __I __should've __been __able __to __do __something. __Something __more__ than __I__ did __do,__at __any __rate._

Davyd had spent an hour in deep prayer to the Maker before turning in. He had asked the Maker for many things, but forgiveness for what he'd done had not been one of them.

Frustrated at himself, he threw the covers off his bed and got up. He threw on a robe and made his way to the Vigil's kitchen. The keep wasn't entirely quiet even at this unholy hour, but it was close. He passed only two guards on his way to the kitchen.

Upon entering the kitchen, he made a beeline for one of the iceboxes. Inside, he kept his stash. He filled a small tankard with some of his own home made ale. Making his way into the dining area, he didn't even notice he wasn't alone.

"What do you want, shem?" a harsh voice startled him.

He nearly dropped his mug of ale in surprise. Looking up, he noticed the newest recruit, Velanna, seated at one of the tables. "I'm sorry, I didn't even notice you were here," Davyd said.

"I asked what you wanted, shem," she said.

"Nothing, nothing. Just couldn't sleep, that's all. Lots of things on my mind at the moment."

"Hmph," she grunted.

"How about you?" Davyd asked amiably.

"Perhaps I'm busy thinking of creative ways to get rid of nosy shems," she muttered. "I'm pretty good at that, you know. Getting rid of shems I mean."

Davyd frowned. "I've offered you no insult. What in the void is your problem with me?"

"It's not you. It's your kind. All of you. Shems do nothing but commit crime after crime against the Dalish, and you all dare to call yourselves civilized," she spat.

"Crimes? As if the Dalish are innocent," Davyd said.

"Moreso than you shems," she replied.

"Eight years ago to this day, my first wife was murdered. Butchered. I pulled three arrows from her body. Dalish make, all of them. So, no, the Dalish are not more innocent than us 'shems'," David snapped.

"She probably had it coming. What was she doing near a Dalish clan anyway?"

"Had it coming? What in the name of the void is wrong with you? She was with a caravan. They didn't know any Dalish were around. If they had, I'm _certain_they'd have taken a different route," Davyd snapped.

Velanna shrugged.

"Fortunately, the perpetrators didn't get away with it. I was in Rendon Howe's service then. My squad tracked the attackers. Took us two weeks to run them to ground. When we did, we showed them the same consideration they showed Sara," Davyd said.

Velanna's eyes hardened. "You. Murdered. Them."

"I like to think of it more as pest removal," he said.

She was on her feet in a millisecond. Her hands burned with magical fire, ready to hurl flame at a moment's notice. Normally, Davyd would've felt some justifiable fear. As it was, he just didn't give a shit.

"What are you going to do, burn me down right here? Go ahead," he dared her.

She controlled herself, and the magical flames died away. "I am under an oath I swore to Lady Cousland. I will honor that oath and not slay you right where you stand."

Davyd turned his back on her without further comment, leaving her to her table.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"Make way you sodding fools!" Oghren shouted.

People stepped aside as Oghren and Nathaniel Howe barged in to the infirmary with Velanna supported between them.

She was in bad shape, Davyd could see that much. She had horrendous burns on her forearms and more bruises and contusions than he could count. Oghren and Nathaniel were basically carrying her, so he could only guess she had leg or foot injuries, making it nearly impossible to walk. Her face was contorted in pain, but she made no sound.

_So__ proud,_ Davyd thought. _She __refuses __to __let __any __'shems' __even __so __much __as __hear __a __whimper __born __of __pain __escape __her __lips._

Davyd was worried, however. Normally if anyone was injured the mage, Anders, took care of it. Davyd didn't pretend to be well educated on the subject of magic, but he was given to understand that Anders had a particular knack for healing.

Davyd wasn't without skill himself. Though his true love was cooking, he had spent many hours in the field hunting with his father as a young boy. Learning to cook often meant hunting the source of the food first. In that time he had learned a lot of herbalism, basic survival skills, and first aid.

"MacDougal!" Howe said. "We need you!"

Davyd sighed, walking up to the cot they had deposited Velanna on. "I'll do what I can, but her injuries are severe. Anders should really have a look at her." About the last thing he wanted was to be anywhere near the foul-tempered Dalish woman.

"Anders is with Lady Cousland in the western end of the arling. He won't be back for three more days," Howe said.

"Damn," Davyd swore. He examined Velanna's injuries. The burns he could do little for except bandage and apply pain killers.

"Farron," Davyd said to his assistant, "fetch my painkillers and bandages. Velanna, those are third degree burns. I have to clean them with disinfectant before bandaging them, otherwise you'll get infected. I've got some pain killers that will make it bearable, but I have to do it or infection could kill you. Do you understand?"

Velanna nodded.

Farron returned with Davyd's first aid kit, which he laid out on a small table next to the cot. Davyd retrieved a small flagon from the kit, showing it to Velanna. "This is opium extract. It will ease the pain, but you'll be drunker than the void. Nothing for it though, so drink up."

Velanna took the flagon, and drank up.

"Good," Davyd said. "Give it about five minutes to start working."

True to his word, Velanna went glassy eyed in just a scant few minutes. Now came the fun part. The hot-headed Dalish woman hated shems. She was not normally sociable at all and wouldn't even let people inside her personal space. Now, he was intending to bandage her, which would involve physically handling her quite a bit. Davyd figured he was likely to get punched. Or magical fireballed. Or perhaps bitten. _What __could __possibly __go __wrong,_ he thought.

"OK," Davyd said. "The extract is working." He took another small flagon of disinfectant and coated a clean cloth with it. He gently touched the cloth to her burned forearm, eliciting a sharp hiss. Davyd pulled away from her. "I'm sorry."

"It's OK," she ground out from behind gritted teeth.

_Damn,_ Davyd thought. _She __was __barely __able __to __say__ that. __She __must __really __be __in __a __lot __of __pain._

He resumed cleaning her burned skin as gently as he could. Even with the pain killer, he could tell she was suffering. He felt every strangled wince like a punch to his heart. He just couldn't stand to see someone, not even her, suffer like that. _This __is __why __I __didn't __go __into __medicine,_ he fumed.

After what seemed like an eternity, he finished. He gently wrapped her abused forearms in heavy white bandages.

"Done," Davyd said, finishing up. "You will need the pain killers in order rest. I'll get them for you and have them delivered to your quarters. Can you walk?"

"She's severely injured her left ankle," Nathaniel said. "I don't think anything is broken, but she shouldn't walk on it."

"OK. I think we have a crutch she can use for now," Davyd said. He turned to face Velanna. "Other than that, we'll just have to wait for Anders to get back. You should rest as much as possible. In fact, the pain killer is likely to put you to sleep pretty soon."

Velanna nodded.

Nathaniel followed Davyd out of the infirmary. "Thank you," Nathaniel said.

"I didn't really help her that much," Davyd said. "I just wish Anders were here. All I can really do is slap a bandage on and give her something to make her not care about the pain."

"That means more to people than you might think," Nathaniel said. "Especially for someone like her. I think she really appreciates it."

Davyd snarled. "I'm sure she'll be back to wanting to cut all shems' throats soon enough, or perhaps telling me that Sara deserved to die. That's when we'll know she's feeling better."

Nathaniel grimaced. "She really said that?"

Davyd nodded. "I have to admit, though, my behavior wasn't exactly exemplary. Still..."

Nathaniel sighed. "There's no point in holding a grudge. She didn't kill your first wife."

"She probably would have if she'd been there," Davyd muttered.

"You don't know that," Nathaniel protested. "Listen to me, because I know. Nothing is served by feeding your anger over past wounds. Do you truly wish to see her suffer because, if you do, she's certainly suffering now."

"The Dalish should suffer a punishment for what they did," Davyd spat.

"I didn't ask if you wanted the Dalish to suffer, I asked if you wanted _her_ to suffer," Nathaniel replied.

"There's no-" Davyd stumbled to a halt. He'd almost said there was no difference. But there was.

"I..." Davyd began. "I never thought of it like that."

"It's easy to see the group someone belongs to and paint them with a broad brush because of that," Nathaniel said. "But she's not a group. She's a person, just like any other person with faults, qualities, hopes, dreams, and feelings."

"She has painful feelings, Nathaniel," Davyd said. "A lot of them."

Nathaniel cocked a questioning eyebrow.

"She comes into the kitchen a lot at night. That's when her own personal demons come out to torment her," Davyd said. "My quarters are across the hall from hers...I've heard her weeping for her sister on more than one occasion at night. That's not even the worst of it, though. Lady Cousland told me what she did, with the caravans. The guilt is overwhelming. I don't think I've ever seen anyone so hopeless. You're right, Nathaniel. She does have feelings. She feels things I wouldn't wish for anyone to feel," Davyd explained.

"I don't get you sometimes," Nathaniel said. "You can go from towering anger towards her to surprising gentleness."

"It's hard," Davyd said. "After Sara, it's just so hard to not see the faces of her killers when I see a Dalish with those tattoos. I just wish..."

"Wish what?" Nathaniel asked.

"I don't know. I guess I just wish Sara were still with me, that's all," Davyd said glumly.

"We all have things in our past we wish we could change," Nathaniel said. "Maker knows I do."

Davyd nodded, but he was quite ready to change the subject. "What happened to her?" he asked.

"We got into it with a band of darkspawn. They had an emissary with them, a powerful one. This one favored fire magic. She stood between the emissary and the rest of us, conjuring one shield spell after another to protect us," Nathaniel explained.

"Damn," Davyd muttered.

"It was unbelievable. I don't think I've ever seen an emissary that powerful. The fireballs it cast were as violent as those explosives that Dworkin Glavonak has been making. The first fireball knocked me clean from my feet. I tried to gain my footing, but the fireballs just kept coming. She stood her ground, Davyd. With the Maker as my witness, I have never seen anything like it. I finally got to my feet and killed the emissary. It was distracted trying to overwhelm Velanna, and I was able to kill it with a well placed shot. Unfortunately the beast had released another fireball just before my arrow struck, and Velanna was exhausted. She saved my life, Davyd, of that I have no doubt. So thank you, for helping her."

Davyd nodded. "Your welcome."

* * *

><p>Davyd returned to the kitchen and started preparing the evening meal. Nathaniel's words were still fresh in his memory, and the implications of what he'd said bothered Davyd. He was appalled that he could've dismissed someone so readily due to the actions of others.<p>

It was something he had to deal with, but he wasn't ready. Fortunately, he had work in front of him to attend to, which would take his mind off his own failings.

Tonight, it was pot roast. He wasn't especially fond of pot roast, but it was easy to make in quantity. The roast had been simmering in the kitchen's numerous cauldrons all day, and it was ready to serve. Putting on a pair of heavy oven mitts, he busied himself with Farron and the rest of the kitchen staff carrying the heavy cauldrons out to the head of the accursed buffet line. It was good, raw, heavy labor. Perfect to take his mind off things.

A few of the Vigil's soldiers had already filed in, and dinner would be in full swing shortly. Davyd and his staff quickly finished setting the buffet line.

"Looks like it's going to be a large crowd for dinner," Davyd said as more and more soldiers filed in.

"You know, the Orlesians refer to the second meal of the day as 'dinner' and the evening meal as 'tea'. Completely the opposite of how it's done here in Ferelden." Farron said.

"Yeah, well, that's like the Orlesians to do things ass backwards," Davyd said. "I'm surprised the Chevaliers don't train their horses to run backwards. Come to think of it, Orlesian nobles do have a tendency to talk out their asses. You see Farron? Backwards in every way."

Farron chuckled. "Ahh, Ferelden. Nearly as irreverent as Orzammar."

"Nearly?" Davyd said, feigning hurt feelings. "Besides, I've always heard the dwarves are big on tradition. They seem to be the opposite of irreverent."

"Only on the surface," Farron said. "Behind closed doors, the thin veneer of submission to their noble caste drops pretty fast."

"You'd think the noble caste would come down pretty hard on that sort of thing," Davyd said.

Farron shrugged. "Occasionally they do. But they're usually too busy with political intrigue to be bothered by some upstart commoners."

"Political intrigue? Dwarves? Those just don't seem to go together," Davyd said.

"Hah," Farron laughed. "You clearly haven't been to Orzammar. The dwarves are masters of political intrigue, equal to the Orlesians. Worse, in some ways. Consider for a moment that dwarven daggers are considered to be the very finest daggers in the world. Now, you'd think that the Dalish would make the best daggers since their warriors tend to favor a fighting style that works best with a dagger."

Davyd nodded. "Good point. So, why are dwarven daggers the best?"

"Because daggers get inserted into a lot of backs in Orzammar. Dwarven daggers are the best because they've been used the most and, thus, the design and smithing that goes into them has been refined the most. That's why their quality generally exceeds that of Dalish daggers," Farron explained.

"Maker's breathe, you're serious aren't you?" Davyd asked.

Farron nodded.

"OK, note to self: do not get a job in Orzammar," Davyd muttered.

"Speaking of sharp, pointy things with Dalish origins," Farron said, "what in the Maker's name happened to her?"

Farron motioned towards Velanna. She had just hobbled into the dining hall on one of her borrowed crutches. She was having a really hard time getting around, every step an exercise in willpower and pain. It was difficult to watch.

"Dueled with a really strong darkspawn mage," Davyd said.

"Ouch," Farron replied.

"My understanding is that the darkspawn came out a lot worse than she did. Still, from what Nathaniel told me it sounds like it was a near run thing," Davyd explained.

Velanna finally managed to seat herself at her usual spot, off by herself. A sudden urge struck to Davyd. He wasn't given to spontaneity, but this somehow felt right.

Davyd retrieved a bowl from the kitchen, and dropped into the still short buffet line. He spooned up a healthy portion of pot roast, and took it to Velanna.

A flash of annoyance crossed her expression briefly, but she quickly stifled it. "Thank you," she said. "That was very thoughtful of you."

"Think nothing of it," Davyd said.

Velanna tried to pick up the spoon, but quickly ran into a problem. Davyd had had to bandage up her hands, since her fingers were severely burned.

She looked at the spoon with frustration. "I appreciate the thought, but it would seem I didn't think this through."

_Someone __will __have __to __help __her,_ Davyd thought. Lady Cousland was gone, or she'd have done it. The Arlessa was just that sort of person. She treated her people like family. _And __she'd __want __me __to __do __the __same. __Oh,__Maker. __What__ could __possibly __go __wrong,_ he thought, coming to a decision.

Davyd seated himself next to Velanna and picked up the spoon. Her eyes widened in understanding what he intended. "No!" she hissed. "I will not spoon-fed like some child."

Her face set in an angry rictus, she struggled to her feet, trying to get the crutch under her right arm. "I'm sorry," Davyd said. "I didn't mean it that way."

She finally got to her feet. "I...know," she said. "I shouldn't have snapped at you."

Davyd waved his hand. "Don't worry about it. It's been a long day."

"Yes, it has," she said. "Maybe I should just retire for the evening." Even as she said it, Davyd could tell she was famished. Severe injury could do that to a person. She looked down at the hot roast, and then uncertainly around the rest of the room, at the other soldiers.

_So __proud,_ Davyd thought.

"Look..." Davyd began. "You're hurt pretty bad. You shouldn't go skipping meals. We don't have to do this here."

Velanna glanced around the room again, and then at the roast. After a long moment she released a pent up breath. "Alright. I'll just go to my quarters. Meet me there."

Davyd entered her quarters. The quarters were generally well appointed, normally being used as a guest room for visiting nobles. With the Vigil playing host to both the Grey Wardens and Amaranthine's troops, the place was getting pretty crowded, so Velanna got the nice guest quarters.

Velanna was seated at a small reading table. Davyd pulled the chair that sat across from her to the right, so that he was seated beside her.

The look of shame on her face was obvious. He didn't know what to do about that.

"You can always change your mind," Davyd said gently.

"No," she said. "As you say, I'm injured and I need to do everything I can to keep my strength up, at least until Anders gets back."

Davyd nodded. He dipped out some roast, and held it up for her. Gently she ate from the proffered utensil. She didn't let anything but a neutral expression cross her face.

And so they continued in silence for the next half hour.

When they were finished, she simply sat for a few moments, silently. "It's OK, Velanna," Davyd said. "Everyone needs a little help now and then. Even invincible, badass Dalish mages."

She giggled a bit. It came out more like a yelp. Davyd didn't think she'd expected his sarcasm, and the the little laugh appeared to have taken even her by surprise.

"Was that...a giggle?" he asked, with mock incredulity. "By the Maker, you've ruined everything!"

"Oh?" she queried.

"It's just that I never imagined invincible, badass Dalish mages were capable of such a thing," Davyd said.

"OK, now you're just mocking me," she said, but the mirth was visible in her eyes.

_And __they're __very __pretty __eyes,_ Davyd thought. _I __don't__ know__ why__ I __never __noticed __them__ before._

In fact, she was really quite beautiful. He had never even noticed that before now. She wasn't beautiful in the classic sense. Her features were too angular, too severe for that. She was, however, very striking. Beautiful eyes, physically strong and very fit.

_Stop__ that,_ Davyd chided himself. _She'd __set __your __arse__ on __fire __if __she __knew __what __you __were __thinking __right __now._

Davyd became serious again. "I won't breathe a word."

"I'd appreciate that," Velanna said. "Now, I think I'm going to turn in. The medicine you gave me is really kicking in, and if I don't get up and go to my bed, I'll probably end up sleeping in this chair."

"You need help?" Davyd asked.

"I'll be fine," she assured him.

"OK," Davyd said, rising. "I had Farron leave several more doses of the pain killer I gave you earlier. They're in the nightstand. You will probably need another dose every four hours or so. I'll loosen the caps on the flagons for you while I'm here."

Davyd opened the nightstand and did as he'd said. Velanna hobbled over on her crutch, and deposited herself on the bed.

"Need anything else?" Davyd asked.

"No," she said.

"Then goodnight to you," he said.

She called to him just before he closed her door. "Davyd," she said, uncertainly. "Thank you."

"Your welcome," he replied.

Davyd walked towards his room, his mind still filled with the image of Velanna smiling. He chided himself again for dwelling on it. Even as he did this he knew he was going to have a hard time not thinking of her as he went to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Things were looking increasingly grim.

No one had told him as such, but Davyd was once a soldier and he'd spent most of his life around them. He knew the signs.

The soldiers of the Vigil filed in and out of his dining hall these days in an almost absent-minded fashion. The jocularity was gone. They came in, they ate their meals, they left. Very little conversation was exchanged between comrades.

There were also a disturbing number of empty seats, and that number grew by the week.

Lady Cousland was showing the signs, to. She was constantly out on the front lines herself. Davyd had even noticed a few random streaks of gray in her blazing red hair. The responsibility of defending the arling from the increasingly numerous darkspawn was wearing her down.

Davyd stood behind the damnable buffet line, watching the grim-faced soldiers get their dinners.

"A copper for your thoughts?" Farron asked.

"Things are turning to shit," Davyd said bluntly. "I've seen it happen from their viewpoint before. Get a good loook, Farron. This is what an army in desperation looks like."

Farron looked alarmed. "What do you think is happening?"

"Something with the darkspawn, I'm sure. Look, maybe you and the kitchen staff should consider leaving. My understanding is that the darkspawn haven't been found in significant numbers in the western end of the arling. You could take some mountaineering gear when you go. You might be able to cross the mountains and get to Highever," Davyd said.

"If it's all the same to you, I'd rather stay. This is my home, for better or for worse," Farron said.

Davyd nearly rebuked Farron for his bravado. Then again...a man sometimes has to stand and fight for his home. There was nothing inherently wrong with that.

"I'm not going to try to force you to leave, and your willingness to fight is gratifying," Davyd said. He looked at the worn faces of the soldiers. "Maybe it won't come to that," Davyd said, not believing a word of his own statement.

"There's your girlfriend," Farron teased, pointing towards Velanna as she entered the dining hall.

Davyd was grateful for the change of subject. He rolled his eyes at Farron. "She's not my girlfriend."

"You two seem to spend a lot of time talking," Farron said. "So, if you two aren't girlfriend / boyfriend, just what are the two of you?"

"I...don't know, actually," Davyd said. "I would say 'friends' but I'm not sure she really does friendship."

"You don't know?" Farron asked, incredulous.

"It's complicated," Davyd said.

"Definitely boyfriend/girlfriend," Farron concluded.

"Dammit, Farron. Don't you have some kind of work to do that doesn't involve using me for a rhetorical chew toy?" Davyd asked.

"Not really," Farron said.

Davyd harumphed. "Since you aren't busy, do me a favor. There's a bowl of hot pasta next to my stove in the kitchen. Get it for me, if you would."

"Of course, milord," Farron mocked. Davyd just grimaced.

Farron returned with the bowl, containing hot pasta and sauce. The smell was alluring. "What is this, it smells great," Farron said.

Davyd sighed. "It's called Sar'Salen."

Farron raised an eyebrow.

"Traditional Dalish dish. Difficult to make. The pasta has to be of a certain texture and cut to length. Each individual piece is stuffed with crumbled beef and mozzarella cheese. The sauce is made from milk, Parmesan cheese, and cream cheese. There are five different Dalish spices that have to be mixed into the sauce in precise quantities. To top it all off, it then has to be touched by a mage's magic," Davyd explained.

"You seriously have the hots for her," Farron said. He started singing like a child. "Davyd and Velanna, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-"

"For Maker's sake, Farron," Davyd said.

"Oh, you've got it bad. That's fine, deny all you want. I'll just leave you to woo your Dalish beauty," Farron said.

"I'm going to get you Farron," Davyd said.

Contrary to what Farron thought, he was not interested in Velanna. Not that way, at least.

Nathaniel was right. Davyd had only seen her as a Dalish, and not as a person. It had been hard, but he finally came to terms with her as a person, and not as a Dalish elf. When he had, he'd been surprised at what he felt. Pity and sadness, mostly. He had seen her in the dining hall the day after Anders had healed her burns properly, and he instinctively reached for that well of anger he normally harbored just at the sight of her. But it wasn't there. He had sought for that font of molten emotion, and to his surprise, he found that his retribution was spent and gone, as if it had never existed.

She hurt inside, a lot. He had once overheard her talking to Lady Cousland, and she stated openly that she did not believe she deserved to be forgiven for what she'd done to the merchant caravans.

At one time, Davyd would've agreed with that. Now...he didn't know what to think. It was easier when he could just think of her as a barely restrained murderer. Now, all he saw was a woman in the pits of hopelessness and despair, and it hurt to see it. It especially hurt to see it happen to someone so strong and so proud.

Velanna was strong. She was nearly indestructible, hard as steel. Most people had a breaking point, but she was one of those rare few that didn't. She could keep going if the void itself was unleashed on the world.

This, however, was both a blessing and a horrible curse. A lesser person would've broke under the weight she carried. When that happened in an army, the soldier in question was usually recognized as being mentally ill and discharged. Sometimes that didn't happen and the person in question would find death in battle, or even suicide. However it happened, these people did at least find some kind of peace, however brutal the finding may have been.

But not a person like Velanna. She had it the worst. She was someone who would never break, and she was proud to boot. For her, no matter how deep the despair, or how heavy her burdens may become, she was cursed with unbreakable fortitude. For her, there would be no escape and she would suffer those burdens every hour of every day.

The Sar'Salen was a peace offering, of sorts. They had exchanged some pretty brutal words when they'd first met. Davyd was ashamed of himself. She carried way too much for one person and he didn't want to add to her burdens. He wanted to apologize to her, to try to set things right. From the looks of things in the arling, if he didn't seize the chance to set things right while it was available, he might lose that chance altogether.

Steeling his courage, he walked from the kitchen to Velanna's table.

She looked up and nodded to him. "Davyd. How are you?"

"A lot better than these men," he said in a quiet voice.

"You see it too? I guess you would," she said. "You've carried a blade before yourself."

Davyd nodded. "I didn't come here to talk about that, though. I made something for you."

"Oh?" Velanna asked.

Davyd slid placed the bowl in front of her. She looked at the pasta, and her eyes widened. "Is this..." She smelled the sauce. "By the Creators, it is. Sar'Salen. Where did you learn to make this?"

"Ambassador Cera helped me. She found the recipe in one of her Dalish history volumes. I even got her to do the magical part of its preparation."

"That's amazing," Velanna said. "We rarely prepare this even among the Dalish, it's so difficult to make, and we often skip the enchantment portion." She speared one of the stuffed pastas with her fork and ate. "You got it exactly right," she said.

"I'm glad you like it," Davyd said.

"We usually only make this for a few special occasions. We usually prepare it when a new Keeper is named, a new First is named, and funerals. Also weddings," she said.

_Weddings,_ Davyd thought. _Farron __will __never __let __me__ hear __the __end__ of __it __if __he __finds __out._

"Listen, I did want to talk," Davyd said. "You remember when we met?"

"Yes," she replied cautiously.

"I...said some things I regret. I know the situation with the darkspawn is turning bad. I want to apologize, and set things right. While I have the chance. I am sorry for what I said to you Velanna," Davyd said.

She looked down blankly at the table.

"Maybe I should leave you to your dinner," Davyd said.

"No," she said. "You're not the one that needs to apologize here."

"Velanna," Davyd said. He turned away, unable to face her and spoke in low tones. "I called your people pests, Velanna. I know how humans treat the Dalish and city-born elves. I knew it was the most harmful thing I could say to you. I am rightly ashamed of myself."

"And I shouldn't have suggested your first wife deserved her fate," Velanna said. "I guess neither of us were in the right that day. Do you think it will always be this way?"

"You mean in general, humans and elves?" Davyd asked.

"Yes," she nodded.

"I hope not," Davyd said. And to his surprise, he truly meant it. "The wounds the elven people have suffered over the years are deep and terrible, though. How does a people ever move on from something like that?"

Apparently, Velanna didn't know the answer. She did at least seem to be happy to have a traditional Dalish dish for dinner. Davyd went and retrieved his own dinner from the buffet line. They ate in companionable silence.

"Can I ask you something?" Velanna asked.

"Sure," Davyd said.

"You never talk about your second wife. I understand if it's too personal..." Velanna said.

Frankly, it was too personal, and he nearly said as such. But she didn't deserve that, and Davyd strangled the impulse to snap at her before it fully formed as a thought in his mind.

"I'd rather not talk about this here," he said after a moment.

"Your quarters?" she asked.

"Yes," he said.

They got up and left, making the short trek to his quarters. He suspected Farron would be cackling madly, seeing them not only leave together but heading straight for his sleeping quarters.

The thought brought a smile to his face as they walked down the hallway. "What's so funny?" Velanna asked.

"Nothing, nothing. Just something Farron said to me earlier," Davyd replied.

They reached the privacy of his quarters. Velanna seated herself on a small sofa, waiting patiently. After about two minutes, Davyd finally sat next to her, and spoke.

"It was the Taint," Davyd said. "It was almost two years ago, right when the Blight had just started. We were living in a small town in the Bannorn, just north of Lothering when the news about the fall of Ostagar and the approaching darkspawn horde reached us. We packed up and fled. At first, everything seemed fine. We ran into a few darkspawn scouts, but they were few in number."

Davyd sighed, trying to breathe out the pain of the memory, but it just wouldn't leave. He plowed ahead. "Valerie contracted the Taint. One day we were just traveling along the road to Denerim, when she collapsed. You know that people who contract the Taint, they become...I couldn't let that happen."

"By the Creators," Velanna whispered.

"She begged me to end it for her. So I did. I put her to the sword myself," tears were falling from Davyd's eyes.

"She was my wife, my beloved, my world. She was...so very gentle. She was the sort of person who exuded an air of innocence. There was not a speck of evil in her, and she was so good to me. I didn't even begin to deserve her. Every night when I went to bed, I prayed, and I always asked the Maker to help me be the man she believed I was," Davyd said.

"And I killed her," his voice finally broke. The memory was just too horrible. "She was the only pure, good thing in my life and I killed her."

Velanna sat silently with a stunned expression. After a few moments, she found her voice. "I know this doesn't make it better, but I know some of what you're going through. Seranni, my sister. That hideous darkspawn creature, the Architect, he has brainwashed her or something. She's the only family I have. I need her back, but she follows that thing. I know, Davyd. I know what it is to lose someone to the darkspawn. Listen to me, Davyd. You did not kill her. The Blight is an incredible evil. There was nothing you could do. It was merciful, what you did do for her."

"I know that here," he motioned towards his temple. "But I don't know that here, and I never will," he finished, motioning to his heart. "Maybe when this is over, you will be able to find Seranni. I hope so. I'd like to think something good might come from this void-cursed, shitty mess."

"I hope so too..." Velanna stumbled to a halt. Tears were falling from her eyes as well. Those beautiful elven eyes met Davyd's. He hesitated, disbelieving the vulnerability she was showing in front of him.

After a moment, he embraced her and they released their grief in front of one another without shame.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Oghren was giving the soldiers a final briefing.

Lady Cousland had taken a small contingent to try to retake Amaranthine, what was left of it, from the invading darkspawn. It sounded like a suicide mission to Davyd, but it was just like her to take on the impossible. He prayed for her victory and safety.

The Vigil had its own problems, however. Another large darkspawn army was approaching and would besiege the fortress within mere hours. The Vigil's garrison was preparing for battle and, from all indicators, it was a hopeless one.

Lady Cousland had left Oghren in command of the fortress in her absence. Davyd had gone to him and volunteered to fight. He hadn't carried arms in over five years, but he just couldn't countenance the idea that he wouldn't stand his ground against the darkspawn if they came. Not after everything they'd done. A small, very angry, part of him was looking forward to butchering those bastards.

Oghren had accepted Davyd's offer. Davyd had attended the final briefing like the rest of the garrison.

"MacDougal," Oghren said. "You were a sergeant at one time?"

"Yes," Davyd said.

"Alright, I want you in command of the militia stationed inside the keep," Oghren said.

"Understood," Davyd said. He was not happy about this assignment. The "militia" was every young boy, old man, and untrained castle staffer. If it got to room-to-room fighting inside the keep, the militia would evaporate in minutes. The only good thing about the situation was that Master Wade had been making arms and armor day and night for weeks now. At least the militia would have quality equipment and weapons.

"There should be plenty of swords, shields, and armor in the armory," Oghren said, echoing Davyd's thoughts. "Draw what you need to equip your men."

"Yes, my lord," Davyd replied.

Oghren finished up handing out assignments, the last given to Velanna.

"I want you on outer wall's upper level, with the archers," Oghren told her.

Velanna nodded.

"Alright, get to it! The sodding darkspawn aren't going to kill themselves!" Oghren said.

_The wall,_ Davyd thought. _The first place to fall if the darkspawn breach the gate. That's where Velanna will be._

His breathe caught in his throat. His heart hammered in his ears. _What's wrong with me,_ he thought. _Am I having a heart attack?_

Davyd quickly left the throne room, and retreated to his quarters.

* * *

><p>"Davyd?" Velanna said. He hadn't even noticed her open his door. "Are you OK?"<p>

"I don't know, I..." he swallowed heavily. "I don't want you on that wall."

"It's my place," she said.

"I don't care," Davyd hissed. "It's too dangerous."  
>"What, do you think I can't handle myself, shem?" she snapped.<p>

"I don't think that," he said, exasperated.

"Then what's your problem with me being on the wall?" she demanded.

"I can't do this," Davyd replied.

"Do what?"

"Nothing," Davyd replied.

"It doesn't look like nothing to me," she pressed.

"There's no reason to talk about it."

"Damn you!" she cursed. "What can't you do?"

"I can't lose you, Velanna," Davyd grated out.

"Lose me? What makes you think I belong to anyone, much less a shem?"

"I didn't mean it that way," Davyd said.

"Then just what did you mean!" she half shouted.

"I CAN'T LOSE YOU BECAUSE I LOVE YOU TOO MUCH!" Davyd shouted at her.

Her eyes went wide as saucers, staring at him. _Maker's breathe, I'm insane. 'Incinerated by Invincible, Badass Dalish Mage'. I suppose that will make as good an epitaph as any,_ he thought with surprising calm.

"Err...maybe I should-"

Before he could finish, Velanna snaked an arm around him, and forcefully pulled him down to her. Their lips met with a lot of force, and they kissed in a rushed, fairly rough fashion.

She pulled back, arms still around him, eyes still wide. "I cannot believe I just did that," she said.

"With the Maker as my witness, neither can I," Davyd replied.

But they didn't let go of each other. Davyd gently placed a hand on her face. She went for another rough kiss, but he stopped her, gently. He placed his other hand behind her head, and guided her gently towards him.

He kissed her softly, almost cautiously at first. The kiss deepened after a moment. Velanna sighed a pleased little sigh.

Davyd had never been with an elven woman before. It was...different, yet familiar. The taste was different, slightly spicy. Her skin was incredibly soft and silken, nearly intoxicating to the touch. The touch of a woman ignited a flame of desire in him that he'd long since thought gone. He held her close.

_So, this is why they say 'Once you go to the Dales, everything else pales.'_

His heart rate slowed a bit since it was apparent she wasn't going to burn him alive. They both came up for air. "If we don't get through this alive..." she began, but her voice broke. She tried again. "If we don't get through this, I want you to know. I love you too."

Davyd embraced her.

"Just...stay with me for a while," she said, sounding vulnerable.

"I will," he whispered.

* * *

><p>They were out of time.<p>

Davyd and Velanna had found comfort in each other's arms on the eve of battle, but the enemy was approaching, and they had to prepare.

"Did you really mean it?" she asked. "When you said you loved me?"

Davyd searched his heart. He had blurted the statement out in the heat of the moment, but he knew without a doubt it had been the raw, unvarnished truth. He was still shocked by that. "Yes," he whispered.

"Are you sure you should give your heart to me?" she asked. "I am rightly labeled a murderer now, exiled from my clan, and until recently, full of hatred for your entire race. I am not someone you should want to be bound to."

"What I _should_ want and what I _do_ want are two entirely different things," he said. "I don't see you as any of those things, anyway."

"But I am guilty," she persisted.

"You can't go on hating yourself forever," Davyd said. "Sometimes we have to forgive ourselves and move on."

"I don't know if I can do that," she said.

"It doesn't matter if you do or don't," Davyd said. "I still love you."

She smiled. "I love you too."

They held each other a few moments more, before she sighed resignedly. "It's time."

Reluctantly, Davyd stood, and started towards his armoire. He still had his old set of studded leather armor from when he'd been a soldier. It'd been years since he wore it, but he was gratified that he was still the same size as he was then, and that the armor would still fit. He started to don the tunic, when Velanna stopped him. "Wait," she said. "Give me the tunic."

Davyd did as she said, wondering what she was up to. She unbuttoned the tunic, and motioned for him to place his arms through the sleeves. He did as she bade. She came around in front of him, and carefully buttoned it completely. She motioned for him to sit on the foot of the bed. She continued to dress him in his battle gear, attaching his leather armor pieces to trousers next, then his boots, and finally the gauntlets. She walked towards the small table where his two handed sword laid, which he had recently sharpened, oiled, and reconditioned for combat that it had not seen in years. She sheathed the great blade, and had Davyd stand up so she could secure it to its mount on his back.

_I could get used to this,_ he mused wryly.

She stood on her tip toes and kissed him gently. "Give me a minute."

She quickly donned a set of leather armored gloves and boots, the only protective pieces of gear she wore in conjunction with her quite unarmored Keeper's skins. She retrieved her staff and turned towards him with a serious look. "I know you don't want me on the wall," she said gently. "But it is my duty. You know this."

"I know," he said. Davyd turned and went to his knees at the foot of his bed in prayer. "Maker help me. I've had two taken from me. Please, not again. Don't take her from me."

"So let it be," Velanna whispered.

Davyd looked over his shoulder at her, questioningly.

"I might still hold to the old Elven faith, but my people owe much to Andraste," she said. "It was her faith in a just Maker that gave her the will to fight for freedom for everyone, even us."

"Velanna, promise me you will come back to me alive," Davyd said.

"I will," she promised. "I love you."

"I love you too," Davyd said.

She left his room. She had made her promise in good faith, but they both knew it was likely she wouldn't be able to keep it.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

The battle had been brutal. Despite the strength of the gate, it had been broken during the battle, and Davyd had had to fight them inside the keep with his poorly trained militia. It had been a blood bath, but the defenders on the wall had winnowed their numbers down enough that they just barely held the darkspawn back.

It had been a bloody affair, but finally, the darkspawn army had broke against the defiant walls of the Vigil. The Vigil and her defenders stood victorious.

Unfortunately, the fact that darkspawn had made it all the way inside the Keep could only mean one thing. The defenders of the outer wall had been overwhelmed.

Davyd looked frantically around the courtyard among the corpses of soldiers and darkspawn, looking for her. He called her name, hoping against hope to find her.

"Maker, no," he wept. "Not again."

"MacDougal!"

Davyd turned towards the voice. It was Anders, the mage. "We found her," Anders said.

Davyd's heart leapt. "Is she alright?"

"No," Anders said. "She's gravely injured."

Tendrils of cold fear snaked into Davyd's mind. "Can you save her?"

"I don't know," Anders said. The mage clearly wished he could've given a better answer, but he couldn't. "I'm going to try. I have to go to her now as she's in bad shape. I will let you know."

* * *

><p>Davyd made his way to the Vigil's chapel. He was far from the only person praying for a loved one's recovery.<p>

It was a scene of fear, loss, and hope all at the same time. Soldiers would occasionally come by to deliver news, both good and bad. The good news would elicit cries of joy and thanks to the Maker. Bad news elicited sobs of bitter loss. Davyd knew his news would come soon enough, and he dreaded to hear it.

After an eternity of worry, the door to the chapel opened to reveal Anders. His face was grim and haggard. Altogether not a good sign, as far as Davyd was concerned.

Anders stopped next to the pew Davyd sat in. "Her injuries were grave. I did the best I could."

Davyd's soul began to die.

"She yet lives," Anders said.

A long held breathe escaped Davyd. "Will she...be ok?" he asked.

"I don't know. Healing is more than just repairing the physical damage, which I have done. If she lives the night, she will make it," Anders said.

"I understand. May I see her?" Davyd asked.

Anders nodded. "I had my assistant take her back to her personal quarters. She's unconscious, and will be until she either wakes up or..." Anders didn't finish that sentence.

"Thank you," Davyd said.

With that, Davyd went to her room, settled down, and began his vigil.

* * *

><p>Davyd didn't sleep. He spent the entire night watching Velanna, making sure she was breathing well at all times, watching for any sign of trouble that would require Anders's attention.<p>

Around five AM, Lady Cousland came by.

"She still lives," Lady Cousland said. "She's strong, Davyd. She's going to make it. Maybe you should get some rest."

"Can't," he said. "I can't leave her here, by herself."

Lady Cousland smiled a tired, but good humored, smile. "You really got it bad this time, don't you?"

"I guess you could say that," Davyd replied.

"How bad?" she asked.

"I told her I loved her. Then we kissed and made love," he said.

"Oh my," she purred. "Well, it's about time you two admitted it to each other."

"What?" Davyd asked, bemused.

"Oh, come on. We had a pool on how long it would take for the two of you get over yourselves and admit how you two felt about each other. Looks like Oghren owes me two sovereigns," she said.

Davyd laughed. "You've got to be kidding me."

"I'm glad you two found each other," Lady Cousland said. "After what you've both been through, it's nice to see something good come from this catastrophe."

"Thank you," Davyd said.

"I need to go," Lady Cousland said briskly. "When she wakes and is well enough, there is some business we need to take care of. It's not extremely urgent, but it is important, so as soon as she is able I want you two to meet me in my study."

Davyd's heart sank. This was almost certainly about Velanna's past crimes. Now that the darkspawn threat was ended, there was likely to be a judgment rendered against her.

"Of course, my lady," Davyd said mechanically.

* * *

><p>Davyd drifted back into consciousness. His bleary eyes looked over at the bed to see Velanna. Awake, and sitting up.<p>

He flew fully awake. "Velanna!" he said. "Thank Andraste for Her mercy!"

Davyd came out of his chair and embraced her fiercely, not even trying to hide the tears of relief and joy.

She was a mess. Her hair was matted and unkempt. She stank, her breath smelled like something had died in her throat, and she still had several blood stains on her from the battle.

Davyd didn't give one sodding damn about any of that. He kissed her fiercely.

She pushed him back just a bit, catching her breath. "Please, I'm a wreck," she said.

"How do you feel?" Davyd asked.

She groaned. "Weak. I don't hurt though. It would seem Anders did his usual great job of patching me back together."

"Let's get you cleaned up," Davyd said.

"I promised you I would come back to you," she said.

"I never doubted it," he said.

She smiled. "You're such a terrible liar." Her eyes softened. "I love you."

"I love you too," Davyd whispered.


	7. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Davyd and Velanna entered Lady Cousland's study. The hour was still early, just before dawn in fact, but the business before them was important and Velanna had refused to delay one minute longer than necessary.

"Thank you for coming, Velanna, Davyd," Lady Cousland said. "Please take a seat."

They sat across from Lady Cousland at her writing desk. The desk was piled high with paperwork. Between running the arling and her warden duties, she had mountains of it.

Davyd dreaded what was to come next, but it was inevitable. The darkspawn had been defeated. Velanna was still considered to be guilty of murder for the incident with the caravans. After all they'd been through, Davyd couldn't believe he was about to lose her to this, but there was nothing he could do.

"The local magistrate has requested that I hand you over to him for trial in relation to the caravans incident. You've already confessed the crime, a salient fact that I am duty bound as Arlessa of Amaranthine to communicate to him. You will undoubtedly be convicted," Lady Cousland said mechanically. Her voice took on a very formal tone. "You are charged with thirty-seven counts of murder and one count of insurrection. Do you wish to make a statement in your own defense, which I will communicate to the magistrate?"

"No, my lady," Velanna said. "It is as you have said."

Lady Cousland smiled, and drew a parchment from one of the myriad piles of paperwork and handed it to Velanna. "Read that please."

Velanna unrolled the parchment and read. "A proclamation of the King. Henceforth, any and all crimes committed by the Dalish Velanna on or before 3 Cloudreach of 9:31 Dragon, whether confessed or unconfessed, shall be pardoned and forgiven in full. In the name of the Maker, so let it be. King Alistair I."

The silence in the office was deafening.

"I do not deserve this," Velanna whispered.

Lady Cousland smiled. "Velanna, no one gets what they deserve. If everyone, one day, got what they deserved there'd be no one left alive once it was over. You've suffered enough for a hundred lifetimes. You are forgiven Velanna. The burdens of your guilt are no longer yours to carry."

"I..." she teared up. "I don't know how I can forgive myself."

"Of the things we have to learn in life, the hardest thing of all is learning to forgive yourself. You must, for your own sake. For both of your sakes," Lady Cousland said.

"The magistrate will be furious," Davyd said.

"The magistrate can sod off. Yes, I'm quite certain he will be very cross with me for a while," Lady Cousland said. "That old codger will live though. Also, Velanna, you have not taken your Joining into the Wardens yet. Technically, I should still have you carry out the ritual to become a proper Grey Warden. Instead, however, I am releasing you from your oath. Too much has been lost here, and it is so good to see the two of you having found each other. It actually kind of reminds me how I met Alistair. It seems you often find love in the strangest places in the most inconvenient circumstances. In any case, I will not saddle you with the Taint. I'm sure the Wardens won't be happy to lose such a promising recruit but, like the magistrate, they can sod off. I'm sure they'll find some way to carry on," she said.

"I'll remember to think of the poor magistrate and his feelings when I pray tonight," Davyd put in.

"So, what will you do now?" Lady Cousland asked.

"I think I'll sleep for a week to start with," Velanna said.

Lady Cousland laughed. "I can believe that. You will always have a place here at the Vigil, Velanna."

"I think I might still try to find Seranni," Velanna said. "You did help the Architect, after all. Maybe I can work something out with him. I don't know, but she's my sister. I have to try. I might also try to find my old clan. They might yet have me back."

"Ooohh," Lady Cousland purred. "A meet the family moment for you and Davyd. I bet that will be fun."

"Oh dear Maker," Davyd said. "I never really thought about that before declaring my undying love. Oh well," he shrugged. "Nothing for it now."

"My Lady," Velanna began. "I...thank you. The words are so inadequate. But thank you."

"Maker bless and keep you both," Lady Cousland said.

They walked down the early morning hallways back towards her quarters. She was walking slowly, hugging herself as if in some kind of pain. She finally stumbled to a halt and went to a knee, unable to continue. She made no sound, but Davyd could see the tears falling.

He kneeled and gathered her in his arms, kissing the crown of her head. A single sob finally escaped her lips. Davyd gathered her closer. "It's over," he said. "It's over. All of it is over."

Velanna poured out years of pent up emotion. The poison was cleansed, the knife was removed, and the nightmare ended.

She was free. She was finally free of her terrible burdens, or would be. Davyd wasn't so naïve as to believe that the pardon and release from the Wardens would simply make things better overnight. It would take time for his lovely Velanna to heal from so many wounds she'd suffered over the years. But she would, and he would be there for her every step of the way. He would stay by her side, to whatever end.

Velanna finally looked up at Davyd and he saw the relief in her eyes.

They rose together, and walked arm in arm into the rest of their lives.


End file.
